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Darth Metus

Darth Metus

Member Since 12 Mar 2013
Offline Last Active Today, 08:28 AM
*****

In Topic: Bring Me to Life

12 September 2018 - 12:18 PM

The Devil had been watching.

One would think that a man responsible for the lives of trillions would have not a second to spare for the Sultana. As time moved ever forward, the threat of war arriving on his doorstep seemed to only increase. Therefore, there was not a moment of respite that the man took; and therefore, there was never a word to the Sultana for her dipping performance. One might have assumed...that he simply did not care any longer. One might have even believed that the whispers of his place among the Tribunal were just that - whispers. Rumors. Smoke in the wind. Yet, before the seeds of that deception could truly take root, Cim Salro had been summoned.

Not to the very public offices on Golbah City.

Not to the densely packed Super Star Destroyers.

But to the quiet, isolated, Floating Gardens of Ryloth.

The chime of her voice did not fall upon empty ears as she called out into the stones. The succulent accent echoed soundly between the suspended earth, prompting the crunch of footsteps upon the thirsty ground. In but a moment, the Anzat's eyes would be greeted with an Obsidian sight. It was not the Devil she expected who had come to meet her, but one of his countless agents. His Knights. Under a hood and behind a mask were the agent's features obscured - but stature alone would betray his gender as male. He approached in silence, uttering not a word to the woman as he drew near.

Yet the silence would be broken when he reached for his belt. For a moment, gloved digits graced the hilt of the lightsaber hanging there...before clutching the disc adjacent to its form. The agent held it out, indicating that the Sultana should hearken to what was to come. A simple press of his finger opened the connection and an azure projection erupted into being. The Devil himself, seated upon his throne, burned into being upon the holodisc.

"Greetings, Miss Salro." came the thunderous baritone of his voice. Though his words were simple, the professional kindness that once colored his tone was long gone. There was a flatness there. An edge, born of impatience.

"You have faltered in our bargain. This...simply will not do." Darth Metus shook his head, cementing his disappointment. Cim already understood what Sith were like when they were disappointed. Failure often meant an early demise and an immediate replacement.

"But...I have been listening. Even my brightest star would not be able to fulfill her duties if the one she loved the most was taken away. And yet you carry on. Slowly. But you carry on."

The Sith leaned forward in his seat. Although he was light years away, the weight of his sulfuric gaze was palpable.

"And so I will give you grace, just this once. The decline in your end, I will forgive due to your grief. But that ends today. You will perform as expected - else there will be consequences."

The agent's grasp stiffened about the holodisc. Yet still he said nothing whilst the Devil spoke.

"Now...considering how things have been, I will be taking a much more...hands on approach moving forward. I gift you this agent, who will report to me, but who will also be your mightiest ally. If memory serves, you two know each other quite well."

"Isn't that right, Nydo?"


The connection ceased.

The holodisc fell to the earth, as "Nydo" reached out. There was no malice in his touch. No murderous intent as his fingertips graced her cheek. His form shuddered the instant the warmth of the Sultana met his glove.

"Minx, is this real?"

His voice...it was different. But he would...feel the same. The Devil made certain of that.

Cim Salro

In Topic: Decay | Adron Malvern

03 September 2018 - 08:59 PM

Adron Malvern was Thunderstruck.

There were certain ways that the Dark Side chose to interact with the waking world. Quiet, gentle notions that its power and presence were very real to those who would listen. For some, they perceived the Deep as a blood-like taste which enveloped the mouth. Yet, there were other signs which pervaded the senses. Like an omen, one invaded the nostrils before personifications of wrath burned across a battlefield. And as the Sith Lord raised his hand against his Apprentice, the stench of burning ozone leapt into his nostrils. It reminded him of the simple truth: The Darkness was his Strength. The Darkness was his Ally. And this truth saw the former Imperial plucked from his assault and sent hurtling across the desolate earth.

But there was fight left within the warrior. There was that Defiance which had led him to this fate to begin with. There was that stubborn, unrelenting will that refused to back down - even when facing down God. For but a moment, the Sith was reminded of himself as he watched the man push himself upright. He was reminded of his first steps down the midnight path - where his own Master pushed him past his limits for the first time. It mattered not how many times the young Darth Metus was laid low, he always managed to scramble to his feet. And it seemed that Adron Malvern shared in this particular trait.

Yet there came a point where his Master had to unbridle his might and strike him as only a Sith Lord could. Where the gloves were removed. Where the Master fought as if he was truly in danger of being taken from this world. The former Imperial would taste this wrath - and in doing so, Darth Metus fully intended to crush the will to fight out of him. At first, he watched. Patiently. The sulfuric depths of his gaze waited hungrily for the Imperial to rise to his feet. As he did, the Sith flexed his fingers, feeling keenly aware of the Bones upon his shoulder and the Crushgaunts upon his hands.

Adron, once more, roared with Defiance. Momentum gripped his form as amethyst sliced through the air. Darkness clung to his hand, forming and shaping into - there was no time to watch. The Sith reacted first to the saber. He did not swat it aside with his own. No, rather, he ascended. His knees bent and a mighty leap sent him upward. But this was not the awe-inspiring feat employed by the former Imperial only moments before. No. This was the jump of a mere man. At the peak of his physical condition? Yes. Empowered by the Darkness for this task? No. Yet the Darkness was indeed with him, and his offhand quickly thrust down to the dirt. Telekinetic fury pushed him quicker than any leap could - forcing him into the air.

And it was by this ascension that the saber zipped harmlessly past.

It was by this ascension that the Spear would miss its mark.

Yet, before the laws of physics overcame the might of the Force, Darth Metus extended his dominant hand. The Bones upon his shoulders flared at his command. The Crushgaunt upon his hand sang with fury. In this instant, the Sith Lord bent the Darkness to his will one final time. He did not hold back in the slightest and placed the Weight of the entire world upon the former Imperial’s shoulders. He aimed at the man and the handful of feet surrounding him before utilizing telekinetics to Push down in the localized area. He sought to rob the former Imperial of his ability to move…by pushing on his form with enough force to crack literal bones. And there, Darth Metus sought to hold the bold Adron Malvern. He sought to exhaust the man’s reserves. Break his spirit. Break his ability to raise a hand against his Master.

And in doing so, his training could truly begin.

Adron Malvern

In Topic: Hello! ʕ→ᴥ←ʔ

03 September 2018 - 06:32 PM

Welcome!

In Topic: A Deal with the Devil

03 September 2018 - 05:46 PM

It was immediately evident that time bred experience when it came to Bonds of the Force. When it came to sensitive matters or times of utter weakness, the Devil was able to close the metaphorical doors to his heart. Though the ocean of thoughts and feelings yet persisted between he and his first apprentice, at times such as those, he could temporarily offer only silence. In this, he could hide how he was truly feeling. In this, he could stifle envious thoughts. However, Alora Fae did not have as much experience as her Master. Having freshly been claimed by the Deep, their bond ran as fast and free as a river. Therefore, her feelings were a touch open to the Sith Lord. When she mentioned her home...mentioned bringing him to her home, there was more than innocence there.

Apprehension? Nerves? The Devil opted not to pry. Instead, he simply offered her that warm smile whilst his fingertips yet graced her skin. The Wildling, in his humble opinion, did not give her - or her people - enough credit. In his mind, the ability to weather a blighted world was indicative of tremendous strength. Most cultures would simply pack up their lives and move onto, literally, greener pastures. They would burden other civilized worlds with their pleads for charity, instead of using their own hands to cultivate what they had. Mandalorians understood what it meant to grow something out of ash. So too did her people. Therefore, they were strong. Alora was strong.

”You are no Jedi,” he began, ”You have no need to be so humble. Survival requires strength that many do not possess - do not sell yourself short.”

Shortly after uttering these words, the vessel dove into Hyperspace. The abyss before them transitioned into azure. The distant stars streaked past them in a dizzying blur. And the Wildling...responded as if she had never seen the spectacle before. For the Sith, this had become routine. It was something he witnessed several times a week; and therefore it had lost its luster. But for Alora, her entire body tensed as if she was holding one enormous breath in her chest. At this, the Devil lofted a single brow. Reaching, he placed his hand over hers - and afforded himself a bemused huff once he saw how his own hand engulfed her own. He did not know if the motion would give her any degree of comfort during her trial, but after a few moments everything settled down. The tension eased and was replaced with...curiosity it seemed.

She seemed to find no end of fascination with the projection of Krant, which was infinitely more appealing than “hyperspace shock.” When he had finished explaining his goal and their destination, her question was fitting. Opening his palm as if to seize the azure globe, the Sith turned his hand as if to rotate it. The projection responded immediately - turning until his hand ceased moving. He then pointed to one of the larger mountains that she had impaled with her arm. ”The Temple nestled within that mountain. It’s ingenious really - a natural defense against prying eyes and difficult to enter for the most part.”

This time, as he spoke, the Wildling moved from sitting to leaning over the console so that she might inspect the projection a little more. Her answer to his final question was simple - I’m better than you think. He allowed a stray thought to leak through their bond, a simple appreciation for how skewed her words could have been taken. What’s more, he let her know where his eyes wandered when she leaned over the console; but did not express disappointment when she settled back into the chair. ”I’ll be the judge of that.” he quipped.

”Do they have lightsabers where you are from?”

Alora Fae

In Topic: Sinner's Well [ Srina ]

03 September 2018 - 02:58 PM

One of the things which made their relationship so solid was their mutual upbringing. As children of Eshan and Mandalore respectively, Srina and her Master had a unique appreciation for warfare. They did not flinch from battles, regardless of who the adversary was. Nor did they falter in the maintenance of their skills. That was one of the things that the pair would always have time for: sparring for just awhile each morning before being tugged away to their respective duties. However, the pitfall that Echani and Mandalorian culture faced was that their wars were very direct. Their cultures were brutal, but efficient, in the way they exterminated an adversary. At times, it was death by melee. At others, it was decimation by orbital bombardment.

Coruscant, therefore, rattled what they had become accustomed to. When Darth Metus looked upon the ash-ridden planet, what little Mandalorian left in him turned up its nose in disgust. But. As the name he now carried implied, he lived a life with a different way of thinking. To be a Sith meant to make one’s ambitions a reality by any means necessary. There were numerous interpretations of what being a Sith meant - but all had that much in common. In the case of Coruscant, the ambitions of the Sith Empire were made manifest through hidden brutality. A literal armada was amassed right underneath the feet of trillions; and not a soul knew. This type of warfare was not straightforward. This type of brutality was not efficient. It glorified terror and senseless bloodshed.

It challenged everything that his Apprentice knew and believed...and left her shaken to the Core. When she reached out for him, his arms eagerly ensnared her form in an embrace. Her touch, always, brought peace to the storm of his life; and in turn he hoped that he could bring her comfort. Her words...balked against the reality of being a Sith. What the Sith Empire had done made her want to have nothing to do with that mindset. Above all, she never wanted to raise a hand against her master. ”You are exactly what I need you to be.” His voice was soft - like a blanket against the chill of her doubts. ”There are countless meaning to the word Sith..” he began, raising his hand once more - this time gingerly stroking her hair. ”But the path taught to me by my Master - the path that I require you to follow - does not ask for you to betray me. I does not demand that you revel in the slaughter of millions. I would never ask you to become a butcher like the Sith Empire.”

He paused, offering a smile. ”You are enough. You are more than enough. Strong enough as well. You have much to learn - and that is what I am here for. What I need you to devote yourself to is simple. Devote yourself to Me. Believe in what I have to teach you. The Sith that I am and the Sith that burned Coruscant are different rungs of the spectrum my dear.”

With his assurances out in the air of the Parlour, the Sith simply enjoyed her embrace for a moment. He nodded along with her requirements for a vacation, affirming with a simple:

”But of course. We never half-ass anything.”

Srina Talon